Bound by Blood and Destiny

Chapter 1

Arthur Tuck was burdened with the bloodline of the Dark Brotherhood, an existence where humanity and darkness coexisted within him, each vying for dominance.
Possessing immense healing powers, every life he saved came at a cost—each act of kindness drained a bit of his benevolent energy, causing the darker side within him to swell. The fragrance of the pouch he carried, a symbol of his goodness, became fainter with every life he healed.
He knew that once the pouch lost all its scent, his humanity would fade away completely.
To prevent himself from falling into darkness, he vowed to remain single and childless for life, severing himself from all ties to his dark origins.
Fate was both merciful and cruel, allowing him to meet Lydia Song, captivating him with her kindness and beauty. Yet the ever-growing darkness within him stirred restlessly, knowing that he had to keep her at arm's length despite his fondness for her.
But love has a way of ensnaring the heart, and in the end, his feelings overwhelmed him. He held onto her tightly, showering her with affection.
However, his own inner turmoil tormented him as the dark side sought to consume her life force, while his remaining humanity yearned for an eternity of love with her.
It was only after she fled their planned wedding—after he had expended all his goodness but still couldn’t save her—that he made a solemn vow to the heavens.
He promised to live a life of compassion, embracing a vegetarian lifestyle and minimizing harm, never to marry or bear children until all his sins were purified.
And only then would he dare to hope for a reunion with her, one day down the road…

Chapter 2

Crossridge lay at the edge of the Great Kingdom, bordering the Western Realm, perpetually draped in winter’s icy grip. Even the hardy wildlife had retreated; winter held dominion here.
In such bitter chill, aside from the hunters, no one should have been brave enough to ascend the mountain, let alone during a frigid night like this.
Yet, now the full moon illuminated the snow, revealing three figures in stark contrast against the frozen ground—
Or rather, one figure and two corpses: a lifeless body, a young man, and a woman on the brink of death.
“Mother... is it true?” The twenty-year-old man gripped her hand tightly, his handsome face as pale as the snow surrounding them.
“Yes...” The woman spoke weakly, blood seeping from her lips as her face turned as cold as the winter itself. “You shouldn’t have tried to save me. It was your father who dragged me over the cliff... Our clan is forbidden from love; it only begets weakness. But I fell for your father, and in the end, he saw me as nothing but an outsider. He stabbed me three times, attempting to end my life. But then he took poison and died, yet my blood refuses to let me go. Listen... you carry my blood, you are the last hope of our clan. You must marry and have children…”
“No.” The young man’s lips trembled but his resolve was firm.
“You think you have a choice,” she replied, a faint smile flickering across her face that held no warmth. “I’ve placed a curse on the members of the Elder Council who failed to offer a proper tribute to my spirit; if you do not marry, they will be compelled to sacrifice themselves until you obey…”
After delivering those chilling words, the woman’s gaze slowly fell, her consciousness slipping away.
He sank to his knees in the snow.
Tears streamed down his face as he mourned his parents' bodies, feeling the unbearable weight of fate pressing down upon him.
If what his mother said was true, he didn’t deserve a marriage, nor should such bloodline continue. But not marrying meant risking the end of the Dark Brotherhood’s lineage through him.
His thoughts spiraling, he numbly moved forward, curling his fingers around a stick to dig into the snowy ground.
Time felt nebulous as he dug; he lost track of how long it was, forgot how his hands grew red and numb, how they bled, leaving curious crimson splotches against the white.
After covering his parents in their frosty grave, he stumbled away from the hollow, exhausted, heading down the mountain. Unbeknownst to him, in the nearby snow, a silver-haired elder had witnessed all.
Even if he were aware of someone behind him, his drained body and spirit couldn’t muster the strength to care.
He reached the base of the mountain and collapsed into the snow, staring up at the blinding brilliance of the moon overhead.
Flakes fell gently upon him, layering a thin sheet of ice over his still form.
He remained motionless, even as distant voices echoed in Mandarin around him.
“Girl, if you don’t come back soon, I’ll leave you here for the bears!”
“Shut up, master! I’m on my way back!”
The shout of a little girl reverberated off the trees, announcing her approach, her small figure emerging as she clutched a red lantern.
Bounding through the snow, she inadvertently stomped right onto the young man’s stomach.
He gasped, curling up in pain.
The girl stumbled, her bundled form rolling awkwardly in the snow, but her lantern remained held high.
Brushing herself off, she stood and leaned the lantern closer to him.
“Why are you lying here sleeping?” she asked innocently.
He said nothing, his deep, dark eyes locking onto her like two inky voids.
“Are you crying?” The girl poked gently at the icy tracks on his face.
“Get away from me,” he growled, swatting her hand aside.
“I get it—you’re hiding away and crying like my mother, right?” She tilted her head, her bright eyes glimmering in the lantern’s glow.
“Go away, kid. I’m leaving Crossridge and going back to the Great Kingdom,” he snapped, a voice booming from the trees farther afield.
“Coming, coming!” she said, then unexpectedly leaped back to his side. “Here!”
She produced a piece of white cake from her pocket.
He turned his head away.
“It’s my birthday today! My master made this for me—it's really delicious!” Without giving him a chance to refuse, she stuffed the treat into his mouth, rattling off what her master had told her. “When you eat some big white cake, your worries will drift away with the wind!”
“I don’t want this, brat. I’m leaving.”
“Master, wait for me!” she sang out, finally darting away without looking back.
He watched her figure disappear into the woods, feeling the soft sweetness of the cake melting on his tongue, filling his mouth with its flavor.
He swallowed piece by piece, slowly sitting upright, inhaling deeply—
His troubles did not simply vanish, as the little girl claimed.
Yet, things weren’t as bleak as he had envisioned.
He had long grown accustomed to his parents’ indifference; their absence wouldn’t change much. Or would it…?
He used his tongue to brush crumbs from his lips, and as the gentle taste lingered, a wave of sadness swept over him. On this day, marked by loss, only that little girl seemed to care.
Tears began to fall silently once more…

Chapter 3

“Song's Apothecary” is a traditional herbal shop in Briar Bank, a distinguished family business with a history spanning three generations. It is the most renowned apothecary in a hundred-mile radius.
However, the saying often rings true—“Wealth rarely lasts beyond three generations”—and this certainly holds for “Song's Apothecary.”
The shop has landed in the hands of William Song, who has become quite indulgent with food and has sold off significant family assets. With his sons being lazy and gluttonous, the revenues of the apothecary have plummeted. Nonetheless, the Song family still lives comfortably, sheltered by the legacy of their ancestors.
Their ancestral home stands much like it did before, although the eaves are sagging and the painted beams within show signs of wear. Still, it maintains an air of the grand residence it's always been. William Song has kept a celebrated chef, Tobias Grey, at his side for the past decade, despite being pursued by a powerful official from the capital who desperately wants to hire him away.
The cost of employing Tobias Grey alone for these ten years has compelled William Song to sell a portion of the family estate, all to satisfy his palate. The house accountant has frequently raised objections to this, yet William remains obstinate, refusing to dismiss Tobias no matter how much he is advised.
On this particular day, the usually bustling kitchen, filled with the sounds of clanging pots and sizzling pans, was permeated not only by the sweet aroma of sugar but also by the heated argument between William Song and his only illegitimate daughter, Lydia Song.
The servants, wishing to avoid the chaos, took refuge in corners, though they leaned in to catch every detail of the confrontation.
Lydia Song is the product of William Song's drunken indiscretions with a maid, growing up in the kitchen where she has never tasted the privileges of being a Song. She has taken on every task one might expect in a kitchen.
Despite this, Lydia is gifted—quick with her hands and sharp-tongued. At just ten years old, she was taken under the wing of Tobias Grey. Now at twenty, she is known throughout Briar Bank for her exquisite pastries.
The staff adores the spirited Lydia, their gracious “flower of the kitchen,” yet they remain silent, knowing their place, watching as she stands up to her father.
“I won’t marry,” Lydia declared, slamming a heavy knife down onto the countertop, her bright eyes locked defiantly onto her father.
“Have you lost your mind? How dare you address me so,” William shouted, his finger jabbing towards her. “You think you have the right to call yourself ‘daughter’ like that? Tuck Clan is the largest apothecary in the Western Realm! When common folks like us line up just to buy their ginger and goji berries, you should be grateful. If it weren't for their divination seeing something special in your fate—thinking you could bring wealth to our family—you wouldn’t even be considered for a match there…”
“I’d have to be crazy to want to marry there. The Western Realm has killed countless of our people in their wars! I will not become a pawn in their schemes. My master Tobias’s wife was murdered by Western Realm soldiers at the border—if I don’t settle this feud, I’m no better than a useless apprentice. You want to tie me to them as a bride, and you think I’ll just kill my husband myself?” Lydia’s usual bright smile was replaced by a tight-lipped frown, her face pale with anger.
“Do you think this is up to you? You are a Daughter of the Song family, and at home, you must obey your father.”
“How could you even say such a thing? When did you ever treat me like a Daughter of the Song family? If I were one, why would I live in that ramshackle hut with my mother, where even the winds seep through the cracks?” Lydia retorted, her cheeks flushed from both rage and frustration.
“I’m doing this for your sake. Your aunt is insufferably jealous. If you and your mother came into my house, you'd only be bullied. Better to…” William’s face grew crimson in anger as he struggled to articulate his thoughts.
“Right, stay here in the kitchen, serving you like a beast of burden. As soon as you see profit, you’d be willing to sell me off to the Western Realm for a good price,” Lydia crossed her arms defiantly.
“You’ve gone too far! How dare you speak to me that way!” William growled, stepping forward, ready to strike her.
Lydia quick as a flash, caught his wrist with her small hand—her years of labor in the kitchen had given her strength beyond her father’s assumptions.

Chapter 4

William Song couldn’t break free. With a forceful twist of his thick neck, he shouted into the kitchen, "Someone get this thief of a daughter out of my sight!"
“Disown me, will you? Fine, there are plenty in town just waiting for a cook like me,” Lydia Song retorted, raising an eyebrow as she shrugged off his grip. She walked over to the stone stove, leaned against it, and sat down, crossing her legs with a cold smile directed at him.
“Y-you… you…” William’s face twisted in anger, but he clamped his lips shut. “Before you leave, you should see if your mother has the strength to follow you. Only I know how to prepare the medicine she needs to manage her pain. If you leave, it’s a death sentence for her.”
Lydia’s fingers dug into her palms as she glared at the man who viewed her and her mother merely as pawns. She fought to keep her expression blank.
William felt a shiver run down his spine under her piercing gaze. “If you obediently marry into the Tuck family in the Western Realm, I’ll give you your mother's prescription as your dowry…”
“I don’t want it,” Lydia snapped, her voice sharp as December wind, free of warmth. “I don’t care if you refuse to help her with the medicine. If you push my mother to her end, I won’t survive without her. We’ll just haunt you, mother and daughter, until the day we meet again in the afterlife. One way or another, I refuse to marry.”
Lydia leaped off the stove and stormed out of the kitchen without a backward glance.
“You ungrateful daughter!” William shouted angrily, chasing after her.
Reaching a grand old tree, Lydia quickly climbed its gnarled branches and settled in, wrapping her arms around her knees.
“The apple doesn’t fall far from the tree. You’re the one who studied medicine and turned a blind eye to my mother’s suffering. With a father like you, it's no surprise I turned out this way,” she said, closing her eyes and refusing to think about anything.
“Anyway, the Tuck Clan is set on finding you a husband. If you don’t comply, I swear I’ll break your hands and feet, cut off your mother’s access to her medicine, and make you regret this for life…”
William cursed at the base of the tree for a long while, spouting threats about how he would drag her off even if it meant carrying her body, before he finally stalked away.
Lydia, once rosy-cheeked like an apple, now felt drained, the joy from creating light, fluffy pastries earlier in the kitchen evaporating like mist.
How she wished she had been born into a lower-middle-class family where daughters were valued more than sons.
Women in such families could work as entertainers, seamstresses, cooks, and more—each job could earn serious money. And while being a cook wasn’t glamorous, it was a coveted position, as only wealthy families could afford a chef, ensuring lucrative pay.
“Damn it,” Lydia yelled at the sky. “I refuse to believe that everything is fate, and I have no control. I’m going to break free from this and build something for myself that everyone can see.”
“Squabbling with your father again, are you?” Tobias Grey lounged carelessly on a high branch, tossing her a remark.
“Master, they’re pushing me too far.” Lydia looked up at his silver hair, venting her frustrations. “They say the matchmaker was blown away by my birthdate. They claim only three girls in The Great Kingdom were born under such a sign, and the Tuck family wants to claim me. They haven’t even seen me, but they sent a whole box of gifts—something’s clearly wrong, and I refuse to marry.”
“That does sound odd. But the scoundrels from the Western Realm are obsessed with omens and prophecies, and I hear something called The Dark Brotherhood is involved. It’s no surprise,” Tobias replied. “Besides, it’s common for the wealthy there to have ten wives.”
“Ten wives.” Lydia choked on her words, a rush of color flooding her cheeks. “I thought my father and brothers were bad enough; I didn’t think I could get sick of it faster.”
“If you end up marrying well, it could actually be a good thing for your mother. But marrying someone from the Western Realm would be absolutely wrong.”

Chapter 5

Graham's wife had been killed by soldiers from the Western Realm during a visit to the border between Lydia Song and the Western Realm years ago. He could hardly suppress his rage; he would gladly tear the flesh from those soldiers and drink their blood.
"Right? Who would willingly marry a savage from the Western Realm? And anyway, with the skills Master taught me, I can support my mother anywhere I go," Lydia Song ground her teeth until they ached. "It’s despicable of my father to keep my mother’s medicine formula from her…”
Her voice trailed off momentarily, and a spark ignited in her bright eyes.
“I have an idea.” Tobias Grey, having mentored this clever, resilient apprentice for a decade, raised an eyebrow.
“Exactly!” Lydia Song waved him over.
Tobias leaped to Lydia’s side, intrigued as she proceeded to outline her plan.
She lowered her voice but spoke with increasing excitement, her lively expression shining through as her usual playful self returned.
"Be cautious," Tobias said, patting her shoulder as a grandfather would a beloved grandchild.
"I will be careful. I’ll work hard to earn plenty of money - just waiting for you to meet me at the border of the Western Realm when you’re done with your business here." Lydia mimicked his gesture, patting his shoulder back.
"It's a promise. Once I finish this contract with my father, I'll find you and pay my respects to my poor wife's grave. Hopefully, I'll get a chance to slay a few savages from the Western Realm in her honor," Tobias declared loudly.
"Pinkie swear," Lydia said, extending her pinkie finger toward Tobias.
As he watched her bright smile, a sense of foreboding crept into his mind.
"Why do you look worried, Master?" Lydia asked, noticing the change in his expression.
“If no one’s around to order me about, I’m definitely going to worry,” Tobias chuckled, ruffling her hair. He decided he would visit the temple tomorrow to pray for her safety.
The journey to the Western Realm was long and fraught with danger; it was best to stay vigilant.
***
Three days later—
On a starry night, Lydia Song carried a red lantern in one hand and a plate of freshly steamed rice cakes in the other, heading to Whispers Tavern to meet her childhood friend, Evelyn Reed.
She wound her way around Briar Bank Bridge and passed Ashford Street, momentarily distracted by a few locals animatedly recounting the miraculous tale of a foreigner saving a child who had been kicked by a horse outside the Taishan Temple. Satisfied with their chatter, she turned into a shortcut overgrown with grass.
But after just a few steps, an unsettling chill ran down her spine. The familiar sounds of cicadas and frogs were eerily absent, leaving only the whisper of the wind through the grass, a sound that raised the hairs on her neck and made her glance nervously at the shadowy thicket.
As she contemplated quickening her pace to escape, a pained gasp drifted from a stone pavilion just ten steps ahead.
"Who's there?" Lydia called out, steadying herself as she approached with her lantern. She had trained in martial arts with Master for several years and felt a surge of bravery.
“Get lost…” a gruff male voice barked from within the pavilion.
Against her better judgment, Lydia pressed on. She could hear the agony in his voice.
“Are you sick?” she ventured forward, squinting into the shadows of the pavilion, catching sight of a tall man crumpled on the ground.
“Go away…” His voice cracked, suddenly fading, as if a hand had closed over his throat.
Lydia rushed forward and tried to step inside the pavilion, but a fierce gust of wind swept through, forcing her to stagger back.
Furrowing her brow, she lifted her lantern to better see the scene inside.
Suddenly, the light extinguished with an unexpected pop.
Frozen in place, goosebumps prickled her skin.
"Ugh…” A sound of retching echoed from within the pavilion.
“Are you okay?” Lydia caught a whiff of iron in the air. Just as she was about to step further, another strange gust blew past, obscuring her vision.
Now, with a growing sense of dread, she felt rooted to the spot. But if there were truly demons or specters within, she could accept that; what she couldn't bear was failing to save a life.
“Do you live far away? Should I call someone?” she called out, her voice steady.
“Leave...” The man’s tone was weary, drained of strength.

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